Delicacies
by Uncommon Rationale
Summary: *Old work. May continue, Masami* Asami finds herself trying out a family old recipe until a "friend" comes around.


"Hmmm~ Mhmm hmmm~!"

Asami stood in the morning haze; Crooning a childhood melody of self-merrit. An essence of pure delightful delicacies swirled around a sizzling and popping rhythm. She was surrounded by pristine material bought from only the best high-end companies of dining contrivance.

Asami pranced. She frolicked. She spun. She hopped and sung; Stopped only by the slinging slush inside of her pans. Her red nails stroked over the metallic handles as she stood wide-eyed.

"It doesn't look the same..!" She pouted.

The green eyed female was beyond privileged; Practically rolling in the opulent comfort of her prodigious mansion. Her goal was to fix up a Sato specialty passed throughout the roots of her slain mother.

But Asami felt botched. She had a nonpareil effort, One that brung her down with each flunk.

"It looks fine."

Oh! This voice... It was his. The ridiculously handsome firebender she so very much adored. Asami was utterly nonplussed at his presence. How long had he been there?

"M-Mako?! What are you doing? How'd you get in?"

"The doors were open. Surprisingly, the only guard on duty was Pu."

"Oh! Go ahead and sit. Why aren't you with Korra?"

The sharkbrowed boy was stagnant, clearly overwrought by dark thoughts of regret. "We're having some problems right now." He paused. "Things just aren't the same."

Asami bit her lip. Was this man really unbound? No longer tied by the imperceptible restraints set by the tanned beauty? "S-so... You're free?" She whispered. "Sort of." He said.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He stayed inaudible and Asami pulled a creaking bamboo seat next to his own. Mako, strong and leader-like, was struck with an arrow of undeniable melancholy.

"She says I never make time for her. That i'm too busy."

"You're..."

Asami's mind was lost in a mental maze of incertitude and clouded commiseration; She was ticked. Irritated. Overall pissed. Mako hadn't taken her feelings for him into account, constantly brushing her aside like tumbling street trash. He knew, she knew; They knew. "Why do you pick her over me? You always bicker at each other... Yet... I'm left alone." She said. "I don't know, to be honest."

Mako's feelings weren't indubitable, and they certainly weren't discernible. One minute solicitous, the next disdained. He played a game; and that game's rules changed each time she picked up the board to play. This man's fragmented heart was split between a mental semblance between two opposite worlds; Blue or green. Korra or Asami? He could never choose, but he'd open up this once.

"I kinda still... You know? It's weird."

The female's burgundy lips coiled into a winsome smile and her nails, prodded into the light brown textile she bared. Soon enough, she stood level to the steam emanating pans set aside at his entrance. "Are you hungry? It's probably not the best but... Eh. It's an otter-seal steak! A Sato delicacy. My mother used to make this dish ALL the time." She said with a rapturous tone.

"I'm fine, Asami. I guess... I should probably go." Mako leaped with a coquettish chuckle; floor boards creaking under the stomp of his cloud-toned boots; coated with powder mocha grime. Asami shadowed his gait until they stood eye in eye under the easy oscillating doors.

"You should come by more often, Mako. It's... Quiet and boring without my buddies." She said. "No can do. Korra wants me to make time for HER, remember?" He muttered. Mazing the red of her nails with the nude of his own, Asami managed to pull his sculpted stature against her fragile body; The burgundy lips conquering the opposite with irrefutable ardor and fellow feeling.

The kiss was long and sweet, leaving a slug trail of variegated fluid at the pull away. "Make time for US... I saw the way you looked at me." Mako'd been encapsulated by the dragging of her cherry nails along the bridge of his pants.

The pair evanesced into the surreptitious precincts of Asami's mansion; Residing in a dusky splendor. The room was heavy with heat, lit only by golden wax brackets and meager sunlight shinning through smoke-gray drapes; Rolled blueprints scattered among the bookcases that covered the walls.

It was clear to the two that they were in the very place Asami's father had planned their demise, But they were already fighting for supremacy: The two's skin glimmering from the slobber set on the short-lived trek. She was unsure of herself, was this truly ethnical? Risqué behavior in the very office of her disregarded father?

It was too behindhand to stop. Asami could feel Mako's tempestuous excitement pressing against her thigh; Vice versa; Mako could feel her protruding heat through both layers of clothing. Asami stroked the outline of his member as she fiddled with the brass bindings of his bottom; Twitching and tinkering until they fell to the floor and she had him by the base. He moaned.

Asami worked; Stroking the pulse and kneading his tip with each stroke. Mako questioned her virgin exposure; Too good to be initial contact. "We can't have sex, but you'll surely be dry after this." Ribald and salacious... Asami threw him into the sole leather seat and sat between his legs.

"Spirits..." Was a single call before a deafening rat-tat-tat waved through the room. Several steel plates clashed as a small squadron of guards flew past the halls in search of the brunette.

The two hurtled to keep their lewdness in cache and Asami pranced to the door with pent frustration.

"I'm here!"


End file.
